Nintō Gaiden: A Ripple On Troubled Waters
The Land of Earth, 18 years after the Fourth Shinobi War. The low rumbling of generators filled the cool room with an ominous air, the dim light bouncing off the four metallic walls. The symmetrical space was neatly divided by a transition — specialised glass which allowed the individuals on either side of it to communicate, but not to touch. Today, only two individuals occupied the polished, wax smelling room. Two ferocious forces that had been clashing for decades, sharing victories and defeats yet never really triumphing over the other. One man sat in a simple chair, facing the thick glass partition, his grey hair released in an unruly mess, his face caked with mud and thick, dried blood. Behind the badly swollen right eye and torn lips lay the battle hardened face of Densetsu Uchiha. He groaned slightly as he attempted to maintain a comfortable posture in the chair, his ribcage creaked as his insides stung. The perpetrator of his injuries hung tethered on the opposite side of the glass, looking far worse for wear. A malnourished looking human being, suspended in midair by its arms and legs; its bony torso littered with shades of black and blue in the places which remained unbandaged. Specialised restraints locked down this fiend's limbs, draining his chakra and disrupting his ability to control it. Shackles also accompanied his neck, while needles pierced his wicker basket chest; pumping low doses of a drug to weaken his muscles. A specialised blindfold sealed his eyes, while a type of helmet fit snugly around the fiend's long, gaunt face. The fiend's caked lips stretched out in a semi toothless smile, as a trickle of blood slid down the edge of his lip. This man was Masa Nakamura, as few others in the world could brag about being subject to such paranoid holding measures. The authorities of this prison recognised that he was in possession of an unnatural intellect and that he had in his armoury, a fearsome array of abilities that had made him one of the world's most feared killers for at least forty years. "Two hundred and ninety-five people in one night," Densetsu stated, his voice hoarse, his head bowed. "They had nothing to do with all of this yet you slaughtered them like pigs." Nakamura said nothing, the grin remaining plastered on his face. Six hours ago Densetsu and Masa had engaged in their latest battle in a beautiful mountainside village: Haruhana Hill. At least it had been beautiful until Masa brought it to its knees — slaughtering its defenders to use their deaths as fuel to power his forbidden, occult practices. A final attempt at his master plan to set the world ablaze in order to have it reborn; before the Human Torch tore through the clouds and into Masa. But Densetsu had been far too late, as Masa's sword and lightning has torn through all without discriminating, tossing their limbs indiscriminately across the once quaint town. And so both men fought, one out of rage or misplaced guilt and another out of desperation and a rabid desire to bring down, what he perceived to be, a failed world. The fruits of the battle dropped in Densetsu's hands as he tore through his old enemy, his passionate flames scorching old Masa and melting flesh, pounding him to his knees and allowing him to be crudely shackled in midair in this institute. As Masa recalled the details, his anger at the derailing of his life's purpose faded away as he began to see the humour in it all. The poor fool in front of him was writhing in agony not because of his own scars, but because two hundred and ninety-five people he didn't know, had stopped breathing. "Instead of having nothing to do with all this, I actually gave them a role to play," Masa spoke, suppressing a cackle poorly. "But it's probably because you beat me that their deaths are so...meaningless." Densetsu shot him a foul glare. He eyed the glass partition, wondered how many seconds it would take for his flames to melt it to nothing but a glowing heap, how long it would take him to drive Rasengan into Masa's abdomen and send his innards blasting out of his back and onto the grey wall behind. 6 seconds, that's what it would take. But he held himself back, not knowing why, only knowing that killing this loathsome garbage would only bring him greater misfortune. Attempting to block out Masa's low cackling, Densetsu spoke in a louder voice. "Your plan, the Revival. I know everything about it. I know you commissioned Miyagi and his mercenaries to do your dirty work. Tricked them, to be more precise. It's over Nakamura, you can't win. The whole damn world knows your play, we won't fall for it again." Though blindfolded, Masa tilted his head towards Densetsu, his neck muscles tensed. Densetsu was unsure if it was suppressed anger, or the strain of raising his head against gravity and the metal helmet. "And yet Densetsu my boy, when has that ever stopped me? You knew about the ritual, the summoning. The Jashinist inspired blood rites. Yet you couldn't save those villagers. You also do know, none of these...prisons can hold me." Densetsu glared, desperately suppressing the urge to kill the monster. But the subhuman beast in front of him could sense the anger and doubt in him, it goaded him further. "Den...setsu...kun, how long have we had this special thing? How many people have you let die, simply because you don't want to let me win?" "Two thousand six hundred and fifty-eight people—" "You kept count—" "They helped me tear you down the way I did today. Your one mistake was showing your head after I annihilated your cheap imitation of the Brotherhood." "You kept count." Densetsu was silent. Masa Nakamura rarely gave dignity to the dead. Their bodies haunted Densetsu's dreams, mangled, incomplete, grotesque and misshapen. And when he focused hard enough he could almost hear their cries... Masa laughed. Loudly and unnaturally, like a forced imitation of joy. It was an insult as he screeched and cackled, expressing some demented and twisted form of delight. Densetsu's fists vibrated, but he knew Nakamura's worth to the people behind him. Behind the locked, steel door stood dozens of high ranked shinobi, all eager to extract the layers of information stashed in his brain. Densetsu had been given this time because he had to, thirty minutes to spend with this evil trash, to attempt to keep it in this prison permanently — or at least longer than the previous three had. "You're captured, your dream is over. You fucked up, Nakamura." Densetsu growled, as he stood up, approaching the glass. He detected the smallest twitch under the blindfold. Densetsu's swollen lips curled into a smirk. "I burned your research personally, but I saw what your plans need in order to succeed, the resources you needed. The time you took. This was your one shot, you and Miyagi blew it—" "Do you remember how I killed your best friend? The Nara boy—" Densetsu was quick to keep his flow going, suppressing his emotion. He had hit Masa where it hurt and he was going to relish it. "Show some humility Nakamura, I know Haruhana Hill was a desperate backup option. And you failed, otherwise the portal would have opened before I got there." Masa's tongue whipped out, much like a snake. "You think it's over Uchiha? I'll get out and when I do, I'll teach you true pain—" "You have," Densetsu cut him off again, "No more purpose. No more reason to breathe. You're a shell, nothing much to begin with but now, now you're nothing." Masa was silent, the grin melting away to a thin line. "So you think you've won, do you?" Densetsu exhaled softly. "Tell me where Miyagi is, try to do something good in your life for once. Before you die." "I won't do that, his fate will be his own to decide." "Honour among monsters. Poetry in motion." "Why don't you break a few nails, make me squeal..." "I came here to ensure the security measures are adequate, there'll be enough time for nail pulling and hopefully tongue scorching soon." "And are you satisfied now, mighty Uchiha?" Densetsu wasn't, but he dodged the question. An outright answer would reveal more to Masa than he needed to. If it were up to him, he'd cut off both of Masa's arms and legs and tether him to the wall, force feeding him nutrients through his veins for the remainder of his miserable life. The only way to shut down this evil would be to starve it. "I'll hunt down Miyagi and the people you've hired. You know I will, and I won't stop until the stain of your existence is mopped off our lands." Masa smiled, "I don't doubt it, Den...setsu." Densetsu's undamaged eye squinted. Masa began to speak more. "The Revival wasn't all there is to my plan, others have begun to realise this world is ruined. They see past the bullshit of unity, the lies your man god Naruto has propagated." Masa's tone had changed, it had become more menacing. Densetsu held the feeble man in his gaze. "There are forces beyond you and I that will restore the balance this world craves. Forces that will cleanse the putrid odour of the weak, with their gold and prostitutes, their soft hands ruling over our people. We've let our soft bellied slaves rule over us for far too long and the lands suffer for it. How many times have you put your valuable life on the line for some villager whose footprint can only be left in the mud and not history?" "Enough of this nonsense," Densetsu spat, his finger pointing forward. "Don't you lecture me on the value of life—" "This is your reward, you fool." Masa hissed. The down turned scowl plastered to his face convinced Densetsu to hold his own tongue. Temporarily. Having hooked his longtime nemesis' attention, Masa continued. "The peace you enjoy and think you helped build is temporary. Fleeting. We both know the forces moving our world are in flux. Organisations, individuals, ideas; all seeking what I sought." Densetsu's grimace gave way to a sneer. "You think everyone wants to see the planet burn? Rule over corpses and ash? I thought you were smarter than assuming everyone else is as mad as you are." A laboured cackle from the opposite end corrected his response. "People want to tear down the way of this world to give birth to something else. Supposedly something better. Better and worse are concepts too subjective for a straight laced slave like you to understand, my dear Den...setsu." Densetsu ignored the insult. "In other words, just like the Akatsuki, Pain, Madara, the Brotherhood and every other threat we've dealt with over the years. The same lure of power and dominance never changes, don't disguise it with flowery bullshit." "Those big plans relying on power and fancy abilities always fall short. Empty master plans that are all in or bust. But what these criminals you're currently occupied with are attempting now seems different no?" Upon hearing those words from Masa, Densetsu froze. Certain problematic organisations had supposedly infiltrated the highest levels of government within the Great Shinobi Nations over the course of decades — according to a source that wound up very dead. More than all the overpowered foes he had fought and defeated or been defeated by, this enemy had been far more fearsome. The idea that enemies existed buried deep in the government had been something that deeply troubled Densetsu, the notion of a deep state. But Masa was right about their method being more effective. In an age where many powered individuals existed and power could be answered with power, or at worst when the overwhelming power of the Great Nations could quash almost all its earthly opponents...tactics, schemes and strategies were a deadly enemy. Even now they struggled to root out the criminals among the top brass of each village, even now the vipers were well concealed. Densetsu for all his ability and cunning was unable to engage in battle with opponents this well hidden and who had no known faces or names. But Densetsu was tired and disheartened, the failure to save almost three hundred human beings bearing down on his soul. Every moment spent in the presence of the cruel, rabid murderer in front of him seemed to suck his vitality. "You said you had a gift for me, Nakamura. I don't like letting people waste my time, so talk now or I walk." Masa purred almost in delight. "I've heard so much about their success, these new types of villains. Not really the classic type like me or Pain, sucks but who am I to judge? But they aren't alone, Den...set...su. Big people have started taking note of the little things, the fires that can be fanned, the pillars to be broken and the dynasties that will crumble. The wheel is in motion and although I never got to be this world's catalyst for change, it will happen." He paused his monologue to lick his lips, before letting out a bloodcurdling shriek. The sudden move made Densetsu jerk backward, a reaction which the blindfolded Masa still detected. And the reaction gave the madman the kick he needed to finish his lecture. "People are fickle creatures. They'll laud you and worship you, but they'll turn on you very next second. A hero's time in the sun is temporary Densetsu Uchiha, soon you will have to choose your side." Densetsu jabbed back. "I already chose my side." "Not here you haven't. It's all a game of optics and pandering to interests now. You help keep an obsolete regime in power, perhaps the hero who defended tens of thousands of innocent weaklings from the grime of our world should realise this?" At this point Densetsu was irritated beyond measure with the condescension in his voice. "What's your point, I told you not to waste—" "You're defending the rich people who put the weak in their vulnerable position, vigilante. Your blind devotion to that shitstain village has made you insensitive to the systematic way they've allowed crime to fester and spread. How they've allowed for the existence of those crime lords you desperately incarcerate. The Shinobi Union can never last, and you...you're guilty of simply not giving a damn about the suffering of those outside your village." Masa hissed softly, venomous words and all. An assault on his ideals, and a hint to the discontent that had made it to the Hokage's offices in the form of rumours, rumours that suggested those outside the Great Five Villages were becoming discontented with their special treatment. Discontented with the Daimyō. Densetsu was livid, but he submerged it as much as he could. Sarcasm was his only shield to mask the anger. "It's because I don't care that I've done the people a service. Locking trash like you up, I mean." Masa laughed at this, the tone seeming to be surprisingly genuine. "Yet you couldn't save those people earlier. Just like you can never save everyone in the awakening that will come. Be it five, or ten, or twenty or after you're long dead and gone...it will come. But yes, I've toyed with you enough." There was a short silence as both men seemed to take in the atmosphere in the now cold room. The low rumbling of the generator moved Masa into action again. "The Ironshield moves against you as we speak. What he plans, I don't know, he is...wise, wise enough not to reveal much to a man like me who does not appreciate secrecy. But they move against your beloved Shinobi Union as we speak, eager to take what they believe to be theirs." "The Ironshield," Densetsu muttered. "There's only one use for that name and it's been dead for decades." Masa grinned. A grin wide and disgusting, Densetsu thought. How repulsive could a human being be? This man was becoming more mortifying to behold with each passing second. Masa spoke again, "Your reward has been delivered." Densetsu turned and walked towards the metal door, not even bothering to bid the repulsive garbage farewell. But it began to crow, in an ugly voice. "I'll get out, Densetsu — I will! You have taken from me whatever little I managed to hold!" Masa cried out, a piercing anger lining his voice, one which stopped Densetsu as his hand wrapped around the door handle. Masa sensed it. "Densetsu Uchiha...our game ended tonight but make no mistake, only one of us will live when I come for you next. But I'll make you experience true pain, like I did with your...Nara friend. This time, I'll make it wooooor...seeee. Which child do you like most? Or do you prefer your wife? Any friends you need me to throw in? Garnishing the main course's head on a platter?!." And then Masa felt it. A Killing Intent so ferocious that his stomach churned, behind the blindfolds and restraints. As if a force was twisting his insides, twisting his internal organs with strangling him simultaneously. He felt so vulnerable that it made him feel alive. The bloodlust emanating from Densetsu Uchiha was terrifying to say the least; but in a split second, it was gone. As suddenly as it had come. A metal door slammed. Masa laughed and laughed, loudly, crudely, it did not matter. But if he knew the turmoil swelling within Densetsu's heart and his doubts and feelings of abandoning the innocents, abandoning them to the whims of the politics of the numerous Daimyō and the injustice of their world...Masa Nakamura would probably have laughed himself to death. ---- One day later, in the Land of Wind. A man dressed in long, flowing black robes strode down a dimly lit corridor, his footsteps making no noise on the cobblestone surface. His hands pressed against two massive wooden doors, engraved with golden vines; as they parted with a low groan. The man stepped past the doors and into a lavish room, surrounded by windows on both sides — expensive stained glass that each had a different deity on them, as light poured through them: painting the room in a mild myriad of colours. In this almost divine setting lay a table of mahogany, perfectly centred in the room. At the table sat one who seemed much too menacing to be labelled a man; his scarred visage, powerful square jaw and cold eyes completing a heavily built, muscular physique. This dangerous being had few enemies, for his aura of intimidation was matched only by mercilessness. He once had a name, Gengetsu Maeda, the famed darling of Sunagakure; though he preferred being addressed as though he were royalty now. After all, it was much more fitting. "Sire, Masa Nakamura has been captured," said the black robed man, bowing in the presence of Gengetsu. Gengetsu reclined in his seat, tilting his eyes to meet the black robed messenger, his rough voice carrying throughout the room. "Go on." The messenger nodded, head still bowed. "He killed off a sizeable number of villagers from Haruhana Hill, engaged in combat with Densetsu Uchiha and was defeated. He's under heavy security in the ANBU interrogation centre, here's the transcript we obtained — of the conversation between the two in the interrogation chambers." "Ah," Gengetsu stated, stretching his arms and folding them behind his head. "The mad dog finally finds itself in the pound." The black robed man carefully approached the expensive table, holding out a large envelope with both his hands. His head bowed in respect. Gengetsu took his time bending forward, reaching out slowly and pulling the letter. He put the letter on the table and motioned with his fingers for his subordinate to stop bowing. "Our men in that facility have outdone themselves. See fit to prepare a sizeable figure to reward their efforts — when I command you to." "Yes my lord." Gengetsu now opened the envelope, pulling out ten neatly arranged sheets of paper. Transcripts between Densetsu Uchiha and Masa Nakamura; along with transcripts of Kumogakure's ANBU Captain and Masa Nakamura. As he had requested, his eyes and ears did not disappoint. Influence was the greatest currency in the Ninja World. His eyes darted through the first three pages before one sentence caught his attention. The Iron-shield moves as we speak. Gengetsu eyed this line carefully, but consciously hid his emotions, expertly playing an unconcerned, infallible poker face. The messenger in front of him could not ever be allowed to have access to Gengetsu's fears or doubts — weaknesses would be exploited and weaknesses led to secrets being dug up. Gengetsu's empire was built on secrecy. Nakamura knows who I truly am, he thought to himself. None knew Gengetsu's true identity — his followers and fellow crime lords knew him as Masamune Toyotomi, an orphan whose power and strategic prowess had helped him seize the underworld by its throat. None knew that he was Gengetsu Maeda, hero of the Second Shinobi War known as 'Gengetsu Ironshield'. Or that he was bestowed with the blessings of Jashin. But he had precautions in place for scenarios such as this, ones that he would soon take to protect his identity. The Shinobi Union was approaching its twilight, Gengetsu knew that night would fall with a bit of patience. And in the night, those who truly deserved to inherit this world governed by weaklings and incompetent Daimyō, would march into the sunrise. The plan was already in motion, the wheel would not be stopped. Gengetsu rose from his table with the envelope in hand, striding towards the exit, leaving the messenger behind. As his hands parted the huge wooden doors, he stopped to issue his command. "Send for the other Lords." The messenger bowed as Gengetsu disappeared behind the doors.